


Of Love, Wine and Priorities

by Savva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:19:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4975144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savva/pseuds/Savva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, we lose our way and need a little help from our friends finding it again. Apparently, Pansy is just that kind of friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Love, Wine and Priorities

**Author's Note:**

> Author: Savva  
> Title: Of Love, Wine and Priorities  
> Pairing: Hermione Granger/Theodor Nott  
> Summary: Sometimes, we lose our way and need a little help from our friends finding it again. Apparently, Pansy is just that kind of friend.  
> Warnings: AU, explicit sexual situations, angst, profanity.  
> Genre: Romance  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Note: Million thanks to my wonderful betas. Also, many, many thanks to TycheSong for helping me with the love scene.  
> Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
> 
> Story Notes: This story has been written for Margaritama for the Epilogue Didn't Exist gift exchange. I based this tale on the first prompt, though very loosely. Hope you’ll like it.

[](http://s1218.photobucket.com/user/lenyak/media/IMG_3377.png.html)

**Of Love, Wine and Priorities**

 

 

****

**_M a y_ **

****

“So … do you like it?” Pansy drawled, eyeing her friend with a frown.

Hermione stood in the centre of a cosy living room, pensively twirling a loose curl that had managed to escape from the chignon at the nape of her neck. Her professional robes made her look ridiculously overdressed and foreign in the country cottage. Her gaze skimmed over the wood-panelled walls and settled on an open window. “Yes, yes … wonderful,” she muttered, seemingly fascinated by the gentle fluttering of a white batiste curtain. “I love it.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes. Hermione’s lack of enthusiasm bothered her more than she cared to admit. Being the most proficient estate agent in their circle, she prided herself on always knowing her clients' needs. “There is also a garden with a view of a neighbouring vineyard …”

“Excellent,” Hermione interrupted with an absentminded nod, still staring at the window. It was obvious that her mind was far away, and she hadn’t heard a single word.

Pansy pursed her lips and, slightly raising her voice, added, “… and a pond with two octopuses in it. You’ll have to feed them fresh chickens every morning.”

“That’s fantastic.” Hermione nodded again.

Pansy drew a sigh. Even though she knew the reason for Hermione's pensiveness, it pained her to see her friend in such a glum state. Of course, mending a broken heart wasn’t an easy task; Pansy knew that better than many. Yet, like everyone else, she had expected Hermione to bounce back with little or no trouble. After all, she was no ordinary witch – a war heroine, a prominent political figure whose skilful campaign had just made Kingsley Shacklebolt their new Minister. Alas, in affairs of the heart, Hermione Granger was as vulnerable as ordinary witches, and an instantaneous rebound clearly wasn’t happening.

 

Stepping closer, Pansy shook Hermione’s shoulder. “Come on, hon. Snap out of it.”

Hermione blinked and a small guilty smile lit up her face. “Sorry, Pans," she said. "My mind ventured somewhere else.”

“And I know just where it went.” Pansy smiled sympathetically. “It’s over, love. You’ve reached a decision, and you have to stick to it, which means it’s time to forget about that bastard. He is no longer your concern.”

Hermione sniffled and sat down on a bench near the window. “I know, I know. It’s bloody hard, though.” Her fingers once again found the loose curl, and began to twist it around her thumb. “What if I never forget him? What if I won’t be able to love anyone else? I honestly don't know how to move on. He's an extraordinary man in so many ways."

“He is,” Pansy agreed, sitting down near Hermione. “He's also married, which makes him a git who took advantage of you.”

Hermione shook her head. “Stop it. He didn’t. I wasn't an innocent little girl. I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted it, and I'm as much to blame as he is.”

“Don’t talk nonsense! He’s almost two decades older than you, and he’s supposed to know better,” Pansy countered with an annoyed huff. “Whatever. It’s over. No more Kingsley. You are here to let go, forget, and recover. Now, please, if you don’t want to leave my ego terribly bruised, tell me you like the house.”

Hermione turned around, this time paying close attention to all the little details. It was clear that Pansy had outdone herself. The cottage was indeed a gem. The maplewood finish gave it the special glowing warmth Hermione had been looking for, and she could already feel its soothing effect. The well-placed windows filled the rooms with light and air, and the rustic furniture made the ground level picture-perfect. “I absolutely adore it,” Hermione declared. “Seriously! I love everything about it. Everything! The wood, the furniture, the atmosphere.” Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and whispered, “So peaceful.”

Unable to conceal a smug smile, Pansy chuckled. “Of course you do.” Springing up from the bench and exclaiming, “come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house,” she tugged Hermione up the narrow stairs.

After showing her all four upstairs rooms, Pansy dragged Hermione outside. Enclosed by a picket fence, the garden met them with a riotous full bloom, from wildflowers to irises to lilacs and spikes of lavender, filling the air with a rich heady perfume and the happy buzzing of bees. A circular stone table with six teak garden chairs stood in the middle of a gravelled area near the back door. From there, Hermione could see a narrow path leading to an old wicker gate, hanging a bit askew, beyond which lay acres upon acres of grapevines. A light breeze played with the new grape leaves, and a thick fog began to rise from the warm earth, slowly enveloping the hills in its sweet-smelling cocoon. A sense of calmness began to fill Hermione. She had never seen a vineyard before, and the scenery left her breathless.

Frankly, until today, she hadn't been sure that she would be able to go through with her plan. It wasn't easy to change her life so drastically. At thirty-five, instead of being at the apex of her career, she had managed to make a right mess of everything. Despite Pansy's reasoning, Hermione knew it had been her fault. She had allowed herself to mix business and pleasure. It had been foolish of her, of course, and … against a bunch of her own rules. She had fallen in love with a married man who had also been (and technically still was) her boss. It's hard to screw things up more seriously than that.

Thank goodness, she'd had enough sense to stop the madness before it ruined them both, because in the Ministry nothing stayed secret forever. After the election, she had decided, it would be better for her to disappear from the public eye. Kingsley's readiness (even eagerness) to let her go had made her shed quite a few tears. In the end, though, she had forgiven him. His motives were understandable – being a new Minister, he couldn't afford anything mucking up his reputation. Besides, she wouldn’t want to see his career ruined either, and so she had left. It was time for a change of scenery anyway. Would it be temporary or permanent? Was she strong enough to leave behind her life, her career, her friends, her former love? She didn't have any answers, even now, but as she breathed the fragrant country air and gazed at hillocks covered with grapevines, she began to feel that, perhaps, she was indeed strong enough.

“Cool view, huh?” said Pansy, settling at the table and fishing two cigarettes from her handbag. Lighting one of them, she handed the other to Hermione. “Here, have a smoke."

 

“You know I’ve quit. Don’t tempt me,” Hermione protested, sinking into the nearest chair.

 

"Relax, you can start your new life tomorrow. Nothing will happen if you smoke one today." Pansy took a draw of her cigarette. "It's so relaxing here. I almost envy you, you know. I wish I could drop everything and live in the country with you."

"Maybe you should," Hermione offered, knowing damn well that Pansy never would. She wasn't a country girl at all.

 

"Nah, I can't abandon my clients. I have to sacrifice myself in the name of humanity."

 

Hermione snorted, “Right,” and lit her cigarette, but after puffing a cloud of smoke, she vanished it with a quick spell. It felt silly to smoke here, and so she settled for watching how the afternoon sun caressed the bright spring greenery. She couldn't remember when she had last been out of London for pleasure. It seemed forever. She had used to love nature – what on earth had happened? She shook her head. During the last decade, her career had swallowed her whole, and then her affair with Kingsley had made everything even more stressful and complicated.

 

A fat bumblebee hummed nearby, reminding Hermione of her childhood; she smiled and took a deep breath. She hadn't felt so at peace with herself and her surroundings for ages. Watching the bee determinedly fly from one flower to another, she suddenly understood that somehow she had lost her purpose, her true self. She _did_ need this break, and not only to mend a broken heart. She also needed to find and reinvent herself. _Of course_ , she thought, _it is time_ _to sort out my priorities_.

 

Turning to Pansy, she said, “Thank you, Pans. I don’t know how you do it, but you're a bloody brilliant estate agent. I feel so at home here.”

Pansy chuckled. “Give it time. I've known you long enough, hon. I don’t think you’ll be able to stay away from the Ministry for long. And they'll call you back soon enough. But, in the meantime, you need to heal your heart, and I hope this place will help.” She put out her cigarette and stood up. “I have to go. I have another client at six. You’ll have all the papers ready for you by later tonight. Oh, and there's a cute village down the road, by the way. You'll have to check it out, some time. Also, you’ll find a nice winery over there.” She waved towards the hill, where Hermione could see a big house.

Something about Pansy's tone tipped Hermione off, and she asked, narrowing her eyes, “Winery? Who's the owner?”

Pansy shrugged. “A wizard,” she said. “A single wizard, to be exact.”

“A single wizard?” Hermione arched her eyebrows questioningly. “Pans, are you up to something?”

“What are you blabbering about?” Pansy gave her a toothy smile. “I’m always up to something. Comes with the territory, darling.”

Not liking the taletelling glint in Pansy’s eyes one bit, Hermione muttered warningly,

“Pansy? Who is he? Do I know him? Please don’t tell me you’re trying to play matchmaker.”

“Shush, you. I'm not trying to play anything, I swear. It’s not my fault that your cottage borders on Theodore Nott's winery.” Pansy picked up her handbag. “Sorry, hon, I'd love to chat more, but I really have to go.” She hastily straightened her robes and Apparated away with a quiet pop.

“Merlin help me,” Hermione said to herself, warily eyeing the house on the hill.

 

 

**_J u n e_ **

****

Theodore Nott was a peaceful person … most of the time. It helped, of course, that he kept to himself, seeing people only when it was absolutely necessary.

 

Having lost his mother when he had been only four and growing up with a father whose bad temper and sulky moods made it difficult to relate to him, Theo learned the art of being self-contained early in his childhood. Later, at Hogwarts, he acquired a few trustworthy friends, although he still wasn't very sociable. Even at his and Daphne's wedding, only three people were present on his side: Draco, Pansy and Blaise.

 

The situation changed dramatically when he took a position in the Ministerial Department of International Liaisons. Mingling with the right people became his job, and he spent most of his time doing it, sometimes forgetting about his wife and old friends. He took his career very seriously, back then. Too seriously. For a long time, he was so intoxicated by a sense of his own importance that it seemed justified to live like that. Then, one day, he stupidly left his very pregnant wife and his unborn daughter alone, because he had an important meeting in Vienna. That day, he lost them both due to early labour and complications. He didn't even make it back in time to say good-bye. That experience taught him a hard lesson … an unbearably hard lesson about priorities.

 

Grief-stricken, Theo resigned, moved to his family house in Wiltshire, and spent the next decade growing grapes and making wine. He also curtailed his circle of friends to the original ones: Draco, Pansy, and Blaise. The support they had given him in his darkest hours was immeasurable. Without them, he felt sure he would have ceased to exist.

 

That said, even though he treasured them, they did annoy him at times, especially Draco, with his continual love saga. The blond wizard had had the misfortune of falling in love with none other than Harry fecking Potter, who apparently had a very limited capacity for feelings … according to Draco, at least. The pair had been converging and diverging periodically for the last five years or so, with neither of them being man enough to offer the other his hand in marriage. Fools.

 

This time, however, it wasn’t Draco. Today, Theo was seriously contemplating the idea of killing Pansy; in a metaphorical sense, of course. He loved the crazy bint; she was like a sister to him. But the flurry of activity that she always brought along was hard to tolerate, especially when it was aimed at him. For the last few years, she had been running amok with the idea of finding him a new woman, and, unsurprisingly, all of his rebukes didn’t faze her in the slightest. She was a witch with a mission. Unstoppable.

 

He should have known that, when a little over a month ago, Pansy had appeared on his threshold with an offer to sell the old cottage beyond the vineyard, it wouldn’t be just a simple estate transaction. He had known the witch for twenty-four sodding years, and she had still managed to outsmart him. In his defence, her offer had looked completely legit and a sensible thing to do. He hadn’t used the cottage in ages, and he’d needed money to pay back a loan he’d taken from Gringotts last autumn for hardy Chardonnay vines. What Pansy had failed to mention, of course, was that the new owner of the cottage would be the one and only Hermione bloody Granger! As if it hadn’t been enough to be forced to listen over and over again about Potter’s inability to understand Draco’s delicate emotional state. The only thing left was for Pansy to start dating that ginger tosser, Ron Weasley.

 

“Shite,” Theo swore under his breath and finished his glass of Merlot. From the weathered steps of his veranda, he could see Granger tending to her flowers in the back garden. “Damn it!” How he could commit such a blunder was beyond him. He had a degree in International Wizarding Law, for Salazar’s sake! He was supposed to be the smart one who paid attention to papers before signing. Alas, he had been too busy with the new grape shoots, and he’d foolishly trusted Pansy, which clearly had been a mistake. Why on earth had Granger decided to move to the country anyway? Pansy had declined to explain, and _The Daily Prophet_ had been suspiciously quiet on the subject. _How very peculiar._

 

Granger had moved in four weeks ago, and Theo had reckoned that his safe haven was about to be destroyed forever. Knowing Granger’s high public profile, he had expected a swarm of correspondents, led by Rita Skeeter, to swoop down on them in the hope of juicy gossip. But it hadn’t happened – thank Merlin – because if it had, he would definitely have had to kill Pansy.

 

At the end of the week, when it was clear that the press wasn't going to invade, Theo let out a sigh of relief. _Perhaps_ , he thought, _she won’t cause any trouble. She may prefer to spend her days reading or doing something equally quiet and innocuous. She HAD been rather bookish in Hogwarts._ He still kept an eye on the cottage, of course, just in case, but he had only seen her a couple of times. Eventually deciding that he’d overreacted, he relaxed and returned to his normal life. The end of May and beginning of June were a crucial time for grape crops, so he had been busy enough to forget about Granger. Not for long, though.

 

Granger had brought herself to his attention a fortnight later by triggering the wards he had placed along the perimeter of the vineyard. Surprisingly, they worked equally well on deer, boar and Granger. Who could have known? The Deer-Repelling Charm, though, had done nothing against her, any more than it had against deer. Maybe he should have paid more attention in Charms at Hogwarts. No matter, he had an alarm, which unfailingly warned him about trespassers.  

 

Amusingly, it had taken him some time to guess that the perpetrator hadn’t been some annoyingly stubborn deer or boar, but an equally annoying and stubborn witch. After he determined that, he had waited quietly, hoping that she had simply been exploring her surroundings and would soon settle down. Alas, he was soon to learn that where Hermione Granger was concerned, settling down was never an option.

 

Ever.

 

The sound of an alarm cut short his ponderings, announcing that Granger had yet again breached his wards. Furious, he looked at the small garden where she had been just a few minutes ago, and, of course, she was gone. Bollocks! He'd missed her again. With a flick of his wand, he turned off the alarm and sprang up from the steps. Today was the tenth time Granger had had the audacity to activate his anti-deer system. Whatever she had found in the depths of the Nott estate, the wailing of the alarm had become ridiculously annoying. Why on earth did she trespass every single day? Probably because an eminent political figure such as Granger couldn’t be bothered with such a banal thing as obeying property lines. Common courtesy wasn’t part of her Gryffindor upbringing.

 

“Enough is enough,” he muttered and grabbed his hat from a balustrade. There were rules by which even a Gryffindor princess needed to abide, and she was going to be taught just that.The wizard whistled to his hound, Pete, and together they began their hike downhill, determined to put an end to Granger’s intrusions.

 

They reached the cottage fairly quickly. Pete picked up the scent, and they began trailing her footsteps between the grapevines, down the hill and toward the forest. The day was warm, and the air stood still, and only their steps disturbed the earth, filling their nostrils with the fragrant dusty smell of soil. The vines, covered with clusters of newly-opened flowers, were doing well – right on schedule for an August harvest (weather permitting, of course). Theo glanced upward. The Wiltshire sky was blue and clear, without any omens of misfortune.

 

As they came nearer to their goal – judging by Pete’s growing excitement – he began to understand where Granger had been going all these days. She had discovered the Mirror, a tiny, crystal-clear lake in which he had swum every summer since he was a tyke. _Odd,_ he thought. Granger had never struck him as an outdoors type.

 

When he approached the clearing, a sound of splashing confirmed his assumption. Granger had indeed been coming to the lake for a swim. Looking down from the hill, he could distinguish her silhouette, and, by the look of it, it seemed that she preferred to swim in the nude.

 

“Salazar help me,” he muttered. “So much for the prissy little bookworm.” It did look asifthe prim and proper Hermione Granger of their Hogwarts years was long gone.

 

Walking as close as possible without revealing himself and hoping that she couldn’t see him, he stopped behind the bushes and observed her for a few moments. After all, he was just a man like any other, and she _was_ trespassing. Even so, it didn’t feel right to peep, and he decided to leave and owl her later. That option seemed all the more attractive, because even a glance was enough to make him aware of the witch’s dangerously enticing curves. Having lived for ten years without a woman, he didn’t want to tempt fate. He was doing just fine on his own.

 

Having made his decision, he began to slowly withdraw, careful not to snap any branches. Alas, immersed in his thoughts, he had forgotten about Pete and his friendly nature. Only when he heard a sudden loud splash, followed by laughter, did he understand that he was doomed. The pup had gone in the water. “Blast it,” Theo cursed. Well, at least he knew that Granger wasn’t afraid of dogs.

 

“I can see you,” he heard her calling. “Could you please turn round so I can come out?”

 

“Sure,” he replied and swivelled around, feeling the heat crawling up his cheeks. _What on earth?_ He thought irritably. He hadn’t blushed since … forever. For a long while – or so it seemed – he stood there, in his own forest, feeling daft and out of place.

 

Fortunately, a soft “You can look now” soon put an end to the awkward situation.

 

Turning around, he found himself staring at a completely soaked Granger. Her drenched hair fell down her shoulders in a cascade of wild ringlets, and her white linen tunic clung to her skin, revealing every curve and crevice of her body. The damp material became almost translucent, allowing him to see the fullness of her breasts, the darkness of her nipples, the shadow of her bellybutton, and the soft roundedness of her stomach. Fighting with himself and trying to remain a gentleman, he didn’t let his gaze creep any lower. _Fuck_ ,flashed in his head, and he swallowed, trying to sooth his dry throat. Granger wasn’t supposed to look like that. And she wasn’t supposed to swim nude in his lake!

 

 _Urgh!_ He could practically hear his heart pumping and his blood rushing and heating up the places it shouldn’t. Surprisingly though, the state of her clothes didn’t seem to bother Granger at all. _What the hell!_

 

Stoically focusing on her face, Theo bobbed his head. “Granger,” he acknowledged her with a tight smile. The last time he’d seen her that close had been more than a decade ago, and he had to admit that all those years didn’t show on her face at all. Fresh-faced, bright-eyed, and with a cluster of freckles on her pert nose, she seemed much younger than he had expected.

 

“Theo, how lovely to meet you here; long time, no see,” she replied with an open smile. “Isn’t it bizarre that we are neighbours now?”

 

“Bizarre is a nice way to put it," he said. "I would definitely use a different adjective. Do you know that you're trespassing?” he remarked sharply. Somehow, the way his body responded to her was irritating him.

 

“Am I?” She blinked and glanced around. “I didn’t realise. There weren’t any signs.”

 

Theo drew an exasperated sigh and explained, “Every time you enter the vineyard, you trigger my anti-deer wards, which in turn sets off an alarm in my house. Since you’ve been doing that every single day for the last two weeks, you’ve driven Pete and me bloody bonkers."

 

A slight blush appeared on the witch’s cheeks. “Goodness, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

 

“And I don’t need signs because everybody around knows and respects the Nott property line.” He scowled at her. “Well, everybody but you. Didn’t Pansy give you a map?”

 

“No, she never did,” she said, and began to move towards the cottage. Theo followed her, and for a while they walked in silence. Eventually, true to form, Granger asked, “Why aren’t you using a Deer-Repelling Charm?”

 

 _Here we go_ , Theo thought. _Miss Know-It-All is here._ “I tried,” he remarked. “It didn’t work. They keep coming back. The buggers are almost as bad as garden gnomes."

 

“Maybe I can help?” The witch livened up. “I was pretty good with Charms at Hogwarts.”

 

“Thank you, Granger. You’re very kind.” Theo bowed mockingly. “I don’t think it will be necessary. Moreover, I don’t recall you being better than me at Charms. But it would be helpful if you went around the vineyard next time. It will make my life much easier.”

 

Ignoring his biting tone, she smiled and nodded. “Sure, and if you ever change your mind about Charms, I'd love to help. Truly,” she said, looking at him, and the colour of her eyes reminded him of the Saigon cinnamon he used for mulled wine in winter. “It’s a bit lonely here,” she confessed.

 

The melancholy in her gaze made him uneasy. He knew everything about loneliness and misery, and he didn’t want to be reminded of it. “Well, you can always return to London,” he blurted, inwardly cringing at his unnecessary rudeness.

 

She drew a sigh and shook her head. “Can’t.” Wrapping her arms around her body, she shivered. “It’s going to be cold tonight,” she said, looking at the sky.

 

Theo followed her gaze. The sky was still blue and calm. “I don’t think so. Our weatherman isn't predicting any temperature drops for the next ten days, and he's very good."

 

“Well, maybe I’m wrong.” She shrugged. “It was nice seeing you, Theo. Good night.” Not waiting for him to reply, she hurried down the path leading to her cottage.

 

Miffed at himself and Granger alike, Theo watched her in silence until Pete came along, poked his palm with his cold nose, and gave him the stink-eye, evidently disapproving of his treatment of Granger. Theo groused, “Sod off,” and marched up the hill.

 

That night, around two, Theo was awakened by a different alarm, the one that no vigneron wants to hear, especially in June – the one that warns him about a temperature drop. Jumping from the bed, he threw on a jumper, trousers, and coat and ran outside. It was freezing, and he could see his breath.

 

“Shite, shite, shite!” he cursed over and over, as he sprinted towards the vineyard. Thank Merlin, it was almost full moon, and he could see fairly well. His wand at the ready, he burst through the vines and began to apply a Warming Charm to every single one. He knew he wouldn’t be able to save all of them from the frost. He simply wasn’t fast enough. There was a way to charm the whole field at once, but he needed a partner with a wand for that. He and Draco had done it, four years ago.

 

Frantically muttering spells, Theo worked as fast as he could, when a thought entered his mind. _Granger! Of course!_ A few seconds later, he was knocking at her door. Hermione opened it in her nightgown, her eyes wide and wary. “What happened?” she asked. “Theo?”

 

This was no time to be proud. Breathing heavily from his run, he begged, his voice hoarse, “I’m sorry for yesterday, but I need your help or I’ll lose the entire crop. The buds are still too young to withstand this kind of temperature.” Worrying that in his haste he wasn’t making any sense, Theo tried to say more, but she shushed him, snatched her quilted dressing gown from a chair and her wand from a table and said, “What do I do?”

 

He said, “Follow me,” and led her to the vineyard, explaining as they ran. Less than twenty-five minutes later, the whole field was covered with a blanket of Warming Charms, and Theo let out a sigh of relief. 

 

Hermione beamed at him. “Phew, that was close.”

 

Watching her smiling face, he chuckled. “Phew indeed.” The moon still shone brightly, and he stared at her, flicking his gaze from her lips to her eyes, to her wild mane and then to her lips again. 

 

“Well, I’ll go, then,” she said abruptly, and Theo realised that his mingling skills desperately needed honing.

 

She was about to leave, but he called, “Wait,” and caught her hand. Hermione paused and looked at him with a surprised expression, though she let him keep her hand in his. He whispered, “Thank you,” gently tugged her to him and clasped her delicate hand between his palms, warming her ice-cold fingers.

 

She answered, “You’re welcome,” and he could see that her cheeks had reddened slightly, and that she was shivering. Instead of casting another Warming Charm, he simply took off his coat. Wrapping it around her shoulders, he accidentally brushed the back of his hand against the side of her breast … and froze. He heard her breath catch and stepped back, letting go of her. Trying to save the moment, he hastily offered, “Let me make you a cup of tea with a drop of good old port. It’s the least I can do.”

 

Hermione laughed, and the awkwardness disappeared. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

 

“So? There's no wrong time for tea and port.”

 

“You know, I think you’re right. Lead the way.”

 

Once in the house, they sat on the enclosed veranda, drank tea and talked about the weather. He asked her how she had known about the temperature drop, and she explained that she had a few scars, which always bothered her before a change of weather. Then they gossiped about Draco and Harry, since they both were very well informed on the matter.

 

When the dawn began to break, he walked her to her cottage, and, before she closed her door, he asked if she would help him with the Deer-Repelling Charm.

 

She smiled. “Of course.”

 

****

**_J u l y_ **

****

Hermione stood in front of the mirror, eyeing her reflection. She knew that the cornflower-blue dress suited her, hugging her curves in all the right places and accentuating her tanned skin. Yet she couldn't help spinning round a few times. Eventually, satisfied with the way the flared skirt twirled about her knees, she sank on her bed. She was nervous and really needed a cigarette, but she had promised herself that she wouldn’t. Somehow, to her, quitting smoking had become intertwined with quitting Kingsley. Both had been pretty toxic, so it made sense, in a bizarre kind of way. Nevertheless, having sworn to stay away from both, she wasn’t going to break her vow.

 

Seeking a distraction, she turned to the window. From her bedroom, there was a clear view of the house on the hill, and, with the afternoon sun shining right over it, she could even make out the silhouette of its owner in the window. _Or was it her imagination?_ It wouldn't be the first or the daftest thing she'd imagined. Once, for example, she had been foolish enough to think that Kingsley loved her, when it had been only a banal office romance, and love was not a requirement.

 

Oddly enough, she was now in a similar predicament again. Shaking her head, she muttered, “Bugger.” She was going to kill Pansy, because, seriously, what in the world had that witch been thinking? The whole point of her buying this cottage was to forget that men existed. She had been supposed to relax, read, breathe ozone after the rain, and take long, calming walks to soothe her aching heart. She had not been supposed to meet a handsome wizard who had managed to cock up the whole process of recovery and capture most of her thoughts for the last seven weeks. In all fairness, though, she knew exactly what her friend’s reasoning had been. For Pansy, the best remedy for a broken heart was a new love. Hermione could almost hear Pansy cheering, “Rebound! Rebound! Rebound!”

 

Perhaps, the theory had its merits, because since the day Theo had caught her swimming naked in his lake, she had barely paid Kingsley any mind. It had probably been the most embarrassing moment in her life. Even now, she still blushed at the thought of it. How she could be so reckless was beyond her, but she had had no idea that she was trespassing. And the lack of underwear … she had only been trying to connect with nature. Hermione covered her face with her hands and muttered, “Oh, God!” Well, at least she owned her bad choices.

 

Besides, Theo hadn’t been particularly charming that day either. In fact, downright rude would have been a better description. He had caught her attention, though. Something about his light-blue eyes slowly skimming over her body, had made her feel all hot and bothered. Frankly, she had never reacted that way to Kingsley. And when he, dishevelled and frantic, had knocked at her door and, forgetting his Slytherin pride, begged her to help him, her heart had melted. There had been so much vulnerability in him, she just couldn’t say no, and she couldn’t stay unaffected. So here she was, in love again. Hermione Granger, glutton for punishment. 

 

She couldn’t help it. She enjoyed their dance around each other. Merlin, she had almost forgotten how exciting, though exhausting, it could be. Admittedly, he was rough around the edges and not very talkative. His silence, rarely broken except by sarcastic remarks, drove her almost berserk sometimes – and yet she liked him. Every time she saw him working in the vineyard in that crisp white shirt and beige linen trousers of his, her heart flipped inside her chest. It’s just – that white batiste against his bronzed skin and those low-hanging trousers were irresistible. Add the blue eyes and dirty-blond wavy locks, and she was done for, which was odd, considering that he was the complete opposite of Kingsley in every respect. Who knew her heart was such a fickle little thing?

 

He had also wisely fed her love for knowledge, which made him even more attractive in her eyes. She had learned a lot about growing grapes and making wine, and found it thrilling, because even at thirty-five, she still loved being taught new things. Together, after a few trials and errors, they had managed to fine-tune his Deer-Repelling Charm, which had made her ridiculously pleased with herself. She had forgotten how satisfying hands-on work with tangible results could be. All in all, his presence had brought lots of positive emotions into her life, and she undeniably had needed them.

 

That said, until today, though, she hadn’t been sure about his intentions towards her. He was hard to read, and apart from a few accidental touches and glances, he hadn’t given any indication that he liked her. No dates, no attempts to kiss – nothing. So much for a rebound! Baffled, she had spent quite a few evenings trying to understand what was holding him back. They were adults, for Merlin’s sake, and the way she saw things, he should at least have kissed her already. She had even checked his horoscope. Pathetic, huh? It hadn’t helped, either, since he proved to be a Scorpio – the most mysterious sign of the zodiac – and there was no way of knowing what was going on in his head.

 

Eventually, as always with men, the moment she had decided to ignore him, he had made a move. She intentionally had avoided him for the last two days, and today, he had finally asked her to dine at his house. Hurrah! Or not. Now, staring at her reflection, she felt unsure. Was she ready for a new relationship? Was it fair to Theo? Was she even capable of _just a rebound_? Sighing, she tried to organise her thoughts on the subject, but a knock announced Theo’s arrival. Ordering herself to stop overthinking, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

 

The intensity of Theo’s gaze, and the smile that lit up his face when he saw her, erased all her last-minute worries. “Ready?” he said, and offered her his arm.

 

“Yes.” She nodded readily and thrust her hand in his.

 

Visibly pleased at her enthusiasm, he drawled with the suaveness of Casanova, “You look exquisite today. Love that colour against your skin.”

 

“Thank you,” she replied, trying not to blush. “So … what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

 

He laughed, his blue eyes glittering with amusement.

 

“What?”

 

“Gryffindors and their straightforwardness,” he said still chuckling. “Come on, kitten, our dinner awaits.” Without giving her an opportunity to protest, he drew her to him. The scent of herbs and Cabernet Sauvignon hit her nostrils, and she breathed it in as they spun into the void of Apparition.

 

************************************************************************

 

The food and wine were superb. Apparently, Theo was not only a skilful vintner, but also an excellent cook, and Hermione found it alluring. Never before had she dated a man who could cook, let alone make wine.

 

Over the appetizers, she asked why he had decided to sell the cottage, and he told her about his plan of expanding the business, by growing a wider variety of grapes and producing more wine. She offered to help him publicise the winery, because that was what she was brilliant at, making something or someone desirable. Seemingly touched by her offer, Theo covered her hand with his. “Thank you. I would love to have your partnership in this venture.”

 

Excited, she couldn’t stop talking about it, and, by the second course, her advertising campaign was all but ready, which amused him greatly. “At this rate, we’ll be ready for world domination by dessert,” he remarked, his mouth curling upward in a teasing smile.

 

“Hey!” Hermione laughed and threw a piece of carrot at him. She missed, and a happy Pete ate it.

 

The dinner went by with silly jokes and unabashed flirting. For dessert and Moscato, they moved to the veranda. The night was tranquil and balmy. They settled on a settee, thigh to thigh, and the heat of Theo’s body penetrated Hermione to the bone. He coiled his arm around her shoulder and she laid her head on his chest, relaxing into his embrace. For a while, they just sat there in silence, listening to the cicadas and each other’s heartbeats. Enjoying the pleasant feeling of light intoxication, Hermione breathed in the sweet aroma of a summer night, warm earth, and honeysuckle. As darkness enveloped them, she noticed the flickering of tiny lights in front of them and exclaimed, “Look, fireflies.”

 

Theo chuckled and murmured playfully, “Don’t be such a city girl, Granger.”

 

Laughing, she turned to him and wanting to slightly tease him, replied, “You were a city boy once too, if I remember correctly. What happened, by the way? Why did you run? Couldn't handle the pressure?”

 

She felt him tense, even before she had finished speaking. The shift in the atmosphere was so drastic that she shivered, even though the air was still warm. Unceremoniously removing his arm from her shoulder, he sprang up, and said, his voice cold and detached, “It was a pleasure to have you over, Granger. I think it’s time for you to leave now.” Giving her a curt nod, the wizard turned on his heel and marched inside the house.

 

Gobsmacked, Hermione called after him, “Theo, wait.” Alas, it was too late. Swallowing the tears that came from nowhere, she Apparated home and cried for a good hour. Then she decided to owl Pansy. If anyone could explain what the hell had just happened, it was she. Hermione sent Pansy a note and went straight to bed, hoping that tomorrow would be better.

 

She woke up to the hooting of Pansy’s owl. After feeding it a biscuit, she crept back to bed, opened the letter and began to read. Merlin, it wasn’t easy. It took her seven attempts to finish it, because she just couldn’t stop crying. By the end, she was just a hiccupping mess. She couldn’t fathom how that tragedy had gone unnoticed by her. HOW? She hadn't even known that Theo was married, let alone widowed. Ten years ago, she had seen him regularly at Ministerial functions, but he had always attended them alone. Nevertheless, that was no excuse for the horrible thing she had said to him last night.

 

Feeling wrecked, ashamed, and unable to wait a second longer, Hermione threw on her linen tunic and ran to the vineyard, looking for Theo. She found him tending to his new chardonnay vines and, without asking, hugged him, muttering, “I’m sorry, so, so sorry. Please, please, forgive me. I didn’t know. I had no idea.” He silently allowed her to embrace him, keeping his arms by his sides, and her tears soaked his shirt.

 

When she managed to calm herself and looked up at him, he brushed a curl from her wet face and kissed her forehead. “It’s all right,” he said, coiling his arm around her waist. “I overreacted. I think, before we can progress any further, we ought to have a talk over a glass of Pinot Grigio.”

 

And they did just that. Theo told her his story, and Hermione told him all about her love affair with their new Minister. After the air was cleared, they decided to proceed slowly and cautiously, as neither of them could handle another heartbreak.

 

**_A u g u s t_ **

****

This was it. Tonight was the night. He had waited almost a year for this moment, and it had finally come. He deliberately chose the night of the full moon and already imagined just how perfect it was going to be. The moon would shine brightly, the heady scent of wet soil and ripe fruits would tease his senses, the cold air would bite his skin, and his breath would blend with the low creeping fog. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so elated. It was almost embarrassing. But this _was_ a special occasion. His first crop of Chardonnay grapes – the ones that he had planted last September – was finally ready to be harvested.

 

At least, nowadays he had someone to share his excitement with, namely, one Hermione Granger. It sounded unbelievable, and yet here he was, walking down the hill to her cottage. A month after their first unfortunate dinner, they were in a much better place. He had learned a lot about her over that month. She was a strange creature, unique and utterly fascinating. He had become so used to her wild reactions and constant babbling that he couldn’t remember how he had lived before her arrival. He hadn't realised how colourless his world had been until she opened his eyes and painted everything in the most vivid colours. With her endless energy, she made his routine brighter, funnier, filling everything with meanings that he hadn't even suspected could exist.

 

Some of her habits still baffled him, of course, but perhaps it was that yin-yang thing she had told him about. Theo chuckled, recalling the other day, when he was explaining why it was customary to pick Chardonnay grapes at night. He had told her that every white grape ought to be plucked in the coldest, darkest hours of the morning, because that was when the grapes had the most aromas and acids, the two vital components of a pristine wine. Frankly, he had not anticipated Hermione's reaction. Her gaze had become unfocused, and, after drawing a long, dreamy sigh, she'd confessed that she found his explanation extremely erotic. She had also said that picking grapes at night sounded romantic, and she would go with him. Later, when he thought about it, he had to agree – harvesting something ripe in the darkest hours of the morning did sound erotic. _Ahem, very much so indeed._

 

Theo shook his head. Who would have thought that Hermione Granger was such a wicked girl? He himself would never have guessed that he could find her so effortlessly seductive, but he did. She drove him bonkers with her skimpy dresses and her peach-soft skin that just begged to be touched. And those lips ... "Ugh," Theo growled. He wanted her so much, it wasn’t even funny, and although he had been the one who wanted to take things slowly, he couldn’t wait any longer. Also, he had a suspicion that Hermione was on exactly the same page. Thus, he had chosen this night for making her his at last. They had danced around each other long enough. He decided that they would have a romantic dinner; then he would take her to his bed and keep her busy until three in the morning, when they would open the season by harvesting their first Chardonnay grapes.

 

 _They_ – _what a beautiful word._

 

He felt euphoric. It was amazing to desire a woman again. To have her today ...  he even found it symbolic, and no, he would never confess that to her. Sentiments were for sissies. Well, maybe, he would admit it, one day ...  She would understand – he knew, and that knowledge was making his heart all squishy. He couldn't help enjoying the sensation, even though he wasn't a sissy. At all!

 

Unable to hide his excitement, Theo began to whistle a tune. Pete gave him a surprised look and sprinted ahead to the cottage. It wasn’t a secret – the pup loved Hermione, just like his owner. Following the path by the vineyard, Theo breathed in the crisp evening air of late August. He could already feel the nearness of autumn. In the past, it had always put him in a pensive mood, but not today. Somehow, his heart knew that he'd got Granger, and he would be fine now. _They_ would be fine.

 

Pete’s barking drew his attention, and he stopped whistling. Something was wrong – the pup sounded upset. Muttering, “What the hell,” Theo sped up.

 

Three minutes later, slightly out of breath, he knocked at Hermione’s door. He could hear a commotion inside, and was ready to use a spell, when the door flew open, and Hermione appeared on the threshold. Looking agitated, she breathed out, “Theo,” and let him enter. The smell of cigarettes caught him by surprise – he knew Hermione had quit smoking – but as he came into the cottage, he could see the reason for the smoke and Pete’s nervousness. There, in the middle of the tiny living room, in all his authoritative glory and looking utterly out of place, towered Kingsley Shacklebolt.   

 

“Minister,” Theo said, his voice deadly. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” A soft sigh near his shoulder told him that Hermione was by his side. The fact that she hadn’t lunged between them gave Theo hope that nothing had been lost yet.

 

Kingsley regarded him with a nonchalant glance and replied, “It doesn’t concern you, young man. I advise you to leave quietly, and let me finish my conversation with Hermione.”

Clenching his fists and trying not to do anything stupid, Theo growled, “That’s where you’re wrong. If this concerns Hermione, it concerns me too. Perhaps, it is you who should leave quietly. Don’t you have the Ministry to run and a wife to take care of?”

 

For a moment, Kingsley's dark eyes focused on Theo with interest. Then he turned back to Hermione. “Please, ask the boy to leave.”

 

Refusing to feel intimidated by the legendary Auror, Theo stepped in front of the witch and drew his wand. “Leave. Her. Alone," he hissed through his clenched teeth.

 

The Minister sighed but didn't move. “Young man, please, don’t escalate the situation. You will not win this. Just go. This is the last time I’m asking you nicely.”

 

Theo tensed and was about to start a fight when a slight hand squeezed his shoulder. “Theo, please,” Hermione whispered into his ear.

 

He spun to face her. “Hermione, what are you -”

 

“Shhh.” She put her finger to his mouth. “I need to do this, Theo. Please, just go. I'll come by later, I promise.”

 

At first, he couldn’t believe his ears, but Hermione’s pleading eyes confirmed that it was real. She was indeed asking him to leave her alone with Shacklebolt. Nodding, he muttered, “As you wish,” and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

 

Outside, the dusk met him with a cold breeze, and a grey, thick fog slithering its way over the vineyard. It was a perfect night to start the harvest, but he didn't notice it. Numb and lost, he stood in the middle of Hermione's garden, staring at the black sky. _Just go._ The way she had said it made him feel useless and foolish. "So much for our first night together," he whispered, recognising the bitter taste of disappointment.

 

Raking his fingers through his hair, he threw a "Fuck it" at the closed door, spat on the ground as if he couldn’t bear the aftertaste and left. Once again walking along the meandering path, he vowed that this would be the last time he played the game called _love_. It just wasn't worth the heartache. Perhaps that elusive "happily ever after" wasn’t for him, and he was better off alone.

 

Pete licked his palm, and Theo chuckled sadly. Squatting, he petted his furry friend, whispering, “Yes, boy. It’s just you and me now.” Pete licked his nose in reply, and Theo nodded. “That’s right. We don’t need her, right?” Pete shook his head, whimpered and sprinted ahead.

 

Once home, Theo poured himself a shot of Firewhisky and swallowed the amber liquid in one go. As the fiery drink burned his throat, it became clear to him that it wouldn’t be easy to forget Hermione. Maybe not even possible.

 

************************************************************************

 

Around three in the morning, Theo threw the glass down on the table, stood up and went outside. Breathing in the cold, damp air, he marched toward the vineyard with furious determination. With Granger or without her, he was going to harvest his Chardonnay grapes. Paying no attention to the moon or to anything around him, he reached his shed and fumbled with the lock, berating himself for drinking. He was almost ready to cast _Alohomora,_ when the sound of hasty steps reached his ears.

 

“Theo,” he heard a familiar voice and spun around. For the second time in one night not quiet believing his ears, he glared at the witch in front of him. Wearing only her white tunic and shivering in the chilly breeze, Hermione was looking at him with those expressive eyes the colour of Saigon cinnamon. His heart began to pound in his temples. _She was here_.

 

“Theo,” she breathed out again and bit her lower lip.

 

Uncertain of his feelings, he blurted, “Are you mad? Where's your jacket? It’s bloody freezing.”

 

His words caught her by surprise, and a tentative smile lit up her face. “I didn’t think,” she said and wrapped her arms around her body.

 

With a sigh, he took off his coat and muttering, “Silly girl,” put it on her. He was about to step back, but she leaned into him, and his arms, as if of their own accord, pressed her to his chest. She shifted closer to him, and he could sense her laboured breathing. Nuzzling her hair, he murmured, “Why are you here? I thought …” His voice broke, and he was forced to take a calming breath before speaking again. “I thought you went back to London, to help him manage the Wizarding world.”

 

“Nope.” She shook her head, and her fingers made their way into his hair. “Didn’t want to. Also, couldn’t. I had to tell you that we can't pick the grapes tonight.”

 

 _Had she_ _gone bonkers?_ “And why is that?”

 

“Because of the rain.” Her wicked fingers began to play with the buttons on his shirt, making it difficult to think.

 

“Don't be ridiculous, Grang -” he started, but didn’t get to finish the sentence as a huge drop landed right on his nose. “What the hell?”

 

“Told you,” she sing-sanged, and stepped back to smile at him.

 

Ignoring the rain, he peered into her eyes and asked, because he needed to know before doing anything else, “What did he want from you?”

 

She shrugged. “He said he missed me.”

 

“And you?” He muttered, pathetically holding his breath.

 

“I said I didn't miss him at all.”

 

Grabbing her hand, Theo tugged her towards him again, and, coiling his arms around her waist, backed her against the wall of the shed. “I thought I'd lost you,” he admitted.

 

“You didn’t,” she whispered, raising her chin and offering him her lips.

 

Theo hesitated for a millisecond, wanting to be able to recall this moment later, and then kissed her with a low growl. He didn’t even realise how wound up he was until he felt her yielding lips under his. Something inside of him snapped, turning the kiss rough and demanding as his frustration seeped into it. As if sensing his state of mind, Hermione let out a soft sigh and squared herself in his embrace, inviting him closer, melting into him. Somehow, her compliance made his irritation disappear.

 

_She was here, with him. She had chosen him._

These thoughts brought back all the yearning he had for her, and he let the love and tenderness do their work. Gently exploring the crease of her lips, he coaxed her to open her mouth for him. She moaned, and their tongues merged hungrily. He could feel her fingers in his hair, pulling him down, wanting more. He responded by pushing her against the wooden wall, grinding his swollen cock against her thigh. The need to have her became unbearable and, with one strong tug, he ripped her tunic, earning himself access to her neck, shoulders and breasts. He thumbed her nipples, and Hermione keened, tilting her head back and letting him shower her with kisses. Her skin was just as soft as he imagined, and it tasted like the most delicate wine he ever savoured.

 

Or maybe, it was a combination of her skin and the rain. Because in their dance, they didn’t even notice that the rain turned into a storm and huge drops were pounding on them from the sky, soaking them to the bone. Regardless of the weather, Theo wasn’t about to stop. Pitching himself against Hermione, he ran his hands down her sides, palming her stomach in gentle strokes. Impatient, she arched up her hips and curved her hands over his arse, gripping his buttocks, nudging him against her. Chuckling, he plucked at her skirt, dragging the fabric up, revealing her thighs to the rain. Teasingly, he crept his hands higher, his fingertips slowly trailed over her hips, and then slipped his fingers beneath the edge of her knickers, playing across her short curls and over her clit.

 

“Don’t tease,” she growled against his chest and shoved her hand in his trousers, freeing him. Grabbing his cock, she began to stroke the length of it hard and fast, forcing a surprised groan from Theo.

 

He cursed – she was such a wicked, wicked girl, and she wanted him, moaned for him, demanding more from _him_. Giving in, he hitched her up and made her wrap her legs around his waist. Positioning himself but needing to hear her confession, he rasped into her ear, “Do you want this?”

She breathed out, “Yes. Now.”

 

Echoing her _yes_ with his raspy one, he pushed her knickers aside and entered her with one strong thrust. Driving himself in and out fast and deep, he found her lips again, sliding his tongue deep into her mouth to match his plunging cock. _Mine,_ flashed in his mind with every stroke, every caress, every sigh.

The wild rhythm of his thrusts made it difficult for both of them to last long, and soon he could feel her trembling around him. Gasping over her mouth, Theo sped up, teasing her depths and, eventually, pushing her over the brink. He watched her shudder and groan, marvelling in the indescribable beauty of her orgasm, and when her pussy began contracting, milking him, he smothered her in a kiss and came.

 

For several minutes, they didn’t move, soaked and frozen and wrapped in a tight embrace.

“Will you stay?” he whispered, peering into her eyes.

She nodded. “I have no choice. Someone has to tell you about the weather.”

 

Theo smiled. “Will you be my weather lady, and my advertising lady, and my -”

 

She pressed a finger to his mouth. “I’ll be happy to be _your_ lady, Theo.”

 

“Good,” he murmured into her wet curls, and then, as if coming to his senses, added, “Let’s get out of here. It’s bloody freezing.”

 

 

**_Fin_ **

****

****

****

 


End file.
